A Spectacular End
by Meilan Firaga
Summary: It is Tifa and Cloud's one year engagement anniversary, but who's to say that everything has to end well? Rated M to be safe. CloudTifa, implied future TifaRude. Oneshot.


The following fic was in answer to an Open Fandom Fiction challenge proposed by Sugarplum. The challenge consisted of the following parameters:

Time: night to dawn; dusk to night (author's choice as to which side of morning you want it to be set)

Weather: fog (you can choose the severity)

Mention/presence: broken/shattered glass

Mention/presence: the heel of a high heeled shoe (it's been broken off of the shoe, so just the heel. Yes, I'm recycling that object. Peyton and I are both in love with the object.)

Song Inspiration: "All Good Things (Come To An End)" - Nelly Furtado

If you're a big fan of Tifa/Cloud pairings, I would not suggest this as the read for you.

Disclaimer: I really don't own it. I wish I did, because then I wouldn't have let it be butchered by company mergers.

A Spectacular End

I stumbled through the sparse fog, clutching the broken heel of my left shoe in one hand as I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest over the thin silk dress I was wearing. A slow breeze caressed my legs and stirred the skirt of the dress, making me shiver. The temperature was steadily dropping ever lower, even as I could see the sky beginning to lighten for a dawn that could only be an hour or so away. I should have though to grab a jacket, but then, I really had a good reason not to have.

We had been occupied a long time to bring me this close to dawn only a quarter of an hour after I ran out. Actually, we probably would not have been occupied until this late if Cloud had come home on time. Today—or yesterday, rather, as it was well past midnight now—was the one year anniversary of the end of Geostigma. It was also the one year anniversary of my engagement to Cloud. One year of wearing a ring that hadn't meant a damned thing. Barrett had taken Denzel and Marlene out to see Corel so Cloud and I could have our time alone, and I had cooked dinner. I don't bother trying to be modest about my cooking skills anymore, so I don't feel bad saying that it was a truly magnificent meal. It was ready by nine, a late dinner, I know, but Cloud was making a delivery on the other side of Midgar that he'd left for late.

It was still keeping warm in the oven by midnight.

I had gotten used to the late nights over the past six months or so. Usually I just left his dinner in a casserole dish in the oven and went on to bed, waking up long enough to snuggle into his side when he joined me later, but tonight was supposed to have been special, being our anniversary and all, and I was stubbornly going to wait up. I touched up my make-up in the bathroom mirror when twelve fifteen passed and swapped the burned down candles on the table for two fresh one, lighting them quickly to see my way to toss the old ones in the trash can behind the bar. By a quarter to one I had flipped on the radio and settled down on top of the bar to relax—an odd habit I'd gotten into back in Sector 7. At ten minutes after one the front door finally opened and Cloud walked in, shaking condensed fog from his spiked hair and throwing me one of his genuine smiles.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, stripping off his bike gloves and the massive sheath to the Buster Sword components. "You know what Reeve's like when he gets to talking." Another smile, and I threw one back, hopping down from the bar and turning to make my way to the kitchen.

"Have a seat while I get the food," I called over my shoulder, my heels clicking against the scrubbed wooden floors. I had spent hours on this dinner, making sure to get every little detail right, and I was ecstatic to find that nothing had grown cold or stale in the slightly warm oven. The pot roast even still looked moist. I pulled out the two plates I'd prepared, setting them on one of the bar trays I used when the rare customer ordered a meal and went over to the crock pot where I'd left the rest of the roast to keep warm. I lifted the heavy ceramic dish out of the warmer and placed it on the tray as well, knowing that its thick material would stay hot for hours yet. Almost as an afterthought I switched off the warmer before grabbing the food and heading back to the table.

Cloud had poured the wine I'd left chilling on ice on the far end of the bar. The ice had long since turned to water, but there was still that smile when I brought the food and I couldn't make myself care that he was four hours late, even if I knew that at his best Reeve couldn't have kept him that long. From somewhere behind him, Cloud produced a handful of beautiful white lilies, holding them out for me. The surprise and delight showed in my face, I'm sure, because he laughed before he took the tray from me in one hand, supplanting the lilies in my own arms with the other. He made a show of sniffing over the tray, pretending he couldn't just look down at the uncovered plates and see what I'd made him.

"This smells delicious!" The few times he was here for dinner with the rest of us he almost always said that over some part of the meal. He set the tray on the end of the bar nearest the table, nudging the ice bucket out of the way, and began to transplant the plates to the settings I'd left on the table. I smiled, shoving the lilies under my nose and breathing deeply. I love lilies and always have. Daddy used to bring lilies to mommy while I was growing up.

Cloud and I sat down to dinner, talking about all the deliveries he'd been on lately and the various goings on at the bar with me. We even, for the first time, really, talked about a wedding to go with the ring he'd given me, trying to decide on a where and when. WE both laughed when I mentioned getting Barrett in a tux and then spent the next ten minutes giggling over what on earth we were going to do with Red XIII. Everything was going so beautifully and I truly could not have been happier. After finishing our food, Cloud surprised me again by switching the radio volume higher, a soft waltz filtering into the room, and sweeping me into a dance. He always hated dancing—he said it made him feel like an incarnation of Shiva—but there were times, like tonight, when he would do it just for me. I'm not sure if it's because of all the agility training he's done with that enormous sword of his, but he really is a great dancer.

The dancing was, of course, a prelude to something else. He spun me out away from him and pulled me closer, crushing our bodies together. It wasn't long before light feet and heated looks lead to passionate kisses and discarded clothing. Even when I felt my ankle thump the side of a step and shoot a sharp pain through my leg while we stumbled our way up to our bedroom, tossing underclothing over our heads as we went, I couldn't bring myself to complain. It had been a long time.

That we spent a few hours before disaster occurred I am sure, because it was not yet two-thirty when we finished dinner and began to dance. The sheets were mussed and hanging from the mattress and the headboard was starting to wear shallow hollows in the wall behind us. I lifted and circled my hips against Cloud's, moaning softly as another wave of pleasure spread through my nearly numb body. He laid his forehead against mine, panting breaths mingling with my own. I circled my hips again—he liked that particularly well—and leaned up to kiss the side of his neck. Then, my world fell apart in a single instant.

"Aeris." His breathy whisper was so soft the I'm sure he didn't think I'd heard it—if he even knew he'd said it, that is. He must have realized, though, when I froze. I went rigid, like a marble statue or the Da Chao mountainside. He raised his head far enough to look into my face, which I'm sure had either gone a ghostly white or a brilliant and blotchy red. His mouth worked silently for a moment and then he tried to make an explanation. Before my name was completely out of his mouth for him to start his excuses I clocked him across the side of his face with my fist. Obviously not prepared for a very pissed off fiancée he rolled off of me, one hand coming to his temple. I was on my feet almost instantly, not taking the precious time I would need to bend down and search out my underwear from where they had been kicked under the bed. I hurried out of the bedroom and started down the stairs, retrieving my halter dress from where it had been thrown over the banister and tugging it on quickly.

"Tifa!" I could hear Cloud stumbling around the bedroom, searching for his boxers as he shouted after me. I was not going to listen, not this time. Enough was enough. My breath was coming in strangled gasps as I stumbled off the bottom stair, snatching up one of my black pumps and shoving it onto my foot as I went. I caught sight of his pants out of the corner of my eye and gave them a hard kick, sending them skittering to a dark corner behind the bar, knowing that I would need what little time that would hold him up to get as far away as I could. My other shoe was under the table, and I had to crawl quickly beneath it. I had just finished settling the shoe on my foot when I heard him start down the stairs. Crawling quickly from my resting place I bolted across the room and out the front door without a second thought.

I ran on the balls of my feet across the darkened streets for what felt like hours, catching my heel once in a sewer grate and snapping it from the sole of my shoe. That was how I came to be walking about unevenly, clutching the broken heel like a weapon. While I walked I thought I might have cried, but tears were surprisingly absent. There was pain there, not that I expected it to be absent as well, but it seemed almost expected in the dull gray fog that settled around me. More than anything I could feel the weight of gravity actually pulling at me—all of me, not just my breasts—dragging me down like a swimmer with a rock tied to his ankle out over deep water.

As I passed beneath another of the scattered light posts I was overcome with the distinct sensation of being followed. Most people don't believe such an instinct exists, but with the number of times the 'hunch' of myself or my fellow AVALANCHE members had been right I would be more than willing to swear by it. It wasn't that I'd heard something; no, the Midgar night was as quiet as it ever could be. It was more like a slight prickling at the base of my neck, like the prickle you get when you're watching a horror movie and you just _know_ the killer is going to attack.

I kept walking, mindful of my broken heel. One of the first things you learn about being followed is to never make it obvious you're aware of the situation. Tipping off an attacker is the quickest way to make them try and silence you.

Then again, I could just be paranoid. Of the whole group, I had always been the most disaster-ready after Meteor. Sometimes I thought I might actually miss the battles. They were, after all, full of an adrenaline rush that no amount of drugs or hot sex could compare to. Almost like those addictions, a big battle could put you on a completely different world.

I was still thinking that when I stepped over a pile of shards beneath a broken street light and heard the sharp crunch of glass just behind me.

Whipping around in an instant, my right foot shot outwards, ready to snap into my assailant's side. However, I forgot about my broken shoe. I rocked to my left, barely able to balance long enough to complete the turn on the ball of my foot, and fell toward my attacker. In a last ditch attempt I raised the broken heel, bringing it in a jabbing motion toward their ribs. My momentum threw me off, though, and the added force of my swing sent me toppling toward the ground.

The guy—I had seen no sign of breasts in my brief glimpse before the pile of glass where I was going to land caught my attention—caught my elbows in my fall, effectively holding me from the ground. In my surprise I tilted my head upwards. The faint moonlight barely glinted off a familiar pair of dark sunglasses and a bald head. Even without his ever-present Turk suit (which he did happen to be wearing) I think I would have recognized Rude.

"I – I'm sorry," I stammered, gathering my feet under me and pushing away from his chest. His arms held taut, keeping me close enough to still feel the warmth radiating from his body, but far away enough that the next passing breeze made me more aware of my lack of weather-appropriate clothing. Above those dark glasses he raised a single eyebrow, silently asking why I was out so late and in so little clothing. I opened my mouth, ready to bullshit an excuse, but instead I found the entire night's story spilling out in a rush. I told him everything, hiccupping a few times when I got to the mistaken name panted in my ear.

Tears that I really would have thought would show up after repeating the tale aloud, if nowhere else, still did not come. I felt nothing but weary as I stood before the stoic Turk, hiccupping away like a scared little child. Rude, for his part, just looked at me. At least, I think he was looking at me. Even in my grief I couldn't help but think that it was a little creepy never knowing where his eyes were focused. I started to shiver and then to shake, my clenched fists loosening until I heard my shoe heel drop to the concrete with a clatter.

Finally, he moved. He gently released my elbows, shrugging his suit jacket down from his shoulders and tugging it off his arms. He slung it across my own shoulders, pulled it closed over my chest, and did up one of the buttons. I sighed as I was enveloped in its warmth, unaware until just then of exactly how cold I was.

"Where were you going to go?"

I stared for a moment, my jaw slack, as he crouched down and retrieved my shoe heel from the ground. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd heard him speak and I was sure that it wasn't getting any less surprising of an occurrence. His voice was deep—very deep—and quiet like you would expect the voice of someone who spent a good deal of their time in a library to be. Suddenly, I realized that he was waiting for my answer, that one eyebrow raised again. Why is it that all serious males do that? Vincent used to raise just one eyebrow at me all the time.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly, growing sheepish. Besides Cloud and myself, none of AVALANCHE but Reeve still lived in Midgar, and I'd always felt a little awkward around Reeve. His bad fortune telling skills probably had something to do with that. Rude and I were still standing close together and I watched my own feet shuffle back and forth no more than a meter or so from his. He took a step toward me, easily cutting that meter in half, and lifted my chin until I was staring directly at the reflective lenses of those glasses. He tilted his head to the side slightly, regarding me with that damned eyebrow raised again.

"Do you need a place to stay, Lockheart?"

I don't know why, okay? I just did it. Before I really knew what I'd said we were walking in silence across the renovated portions of the city toward Old Midgar. I tip-toed carefully in my broken shoes, maneuvering through the various crumbling buildings as we picked our way through to the area above Sector Six, where the Shinra building had once stood. Next to the broken down corporate castle was a sturdy apartment building sporting a series of wrought iron balconies and very inviting lights. The rubble had been cleared off in a fifty yard radius around the building and it was built with new mortar and polished stone. I had never heard of a new residential site out that far, but I couldn't bring myself to object at finding one.

Rude led me down a short cobblestone walkway and up to the building's glass front doors. The lobby was nicer than I expected, with a glimmering chandelier overhead and gorgeous parquet flooring. WE moved through the small lobby to a glass elevator that was centered in the building. When I looked up from the ground level while we waited on the car I could see four sets of brass circular railing on each floor above with only a small space of walkway out to the elevator shaft. The car landed with a 'bing' and we moved inside. Rude, still as silent as ever, pressed the button for the top floor and stepped back from the door when we began to rise. There still hadn't been any conversation, but for once I was actually happy about that. No conversation meant no questions and no more explanations.

When the elevator expelled us with another 'bing' we walked all the way to the far end of the hall and stopped at a door with a brass number 59A. Rude produced an old fashioned key from his pocked and let us into one of the nicest apartments I have ever seen. Instead of a short hallway that led into the rest of the apartment, the front door opened straight into an incredibly spacious living room. When Rude ushered me inside and mumbled something that could have been 'make yourself at home' I gratefully crossed the plush white carpet and all but fell into the enormous leather sofa. I closed my eyes and sank into the cushions, snuggling up inside his jacket and kicking my shoes off onto the floor. I could hear him moving about in the apartment, locking the door and crossing into another room where I heard doors opening and closing. I forced myself to open my eyes and give him a smile of thanks when he dropped a woven quilt over me. He simply nodded his head and moved off again, going to an answering machine on a table near the balcony doors.

His balcony door gave a truly spectacular view. It was on the front side of the building, the one that faced the new parts of the city, and the glow from the streetlights and the buildings that were lit up was truly an amazing sight to see, even if it hadn't been backlit by the pink and orange sky of a soon-to-be-rising sun.

You have one new message. The mechanical voice on the answering machine snapped me out of my reverie over the view, quickly followed by Reno's annoying voice.

"Hey, partner, we got a call from that spikey-haired Cloud. He says his girl's run out and he wants us to find her. Something about repaying old debts. Give me a call if you want to go with—"

Message deleted.

This time, I got to be the one raising an eyebrow as Rude cut off Reno's message with a firm press to the delete button. He just shrugged at me, lifting up his eyebrow, and moved to close the long drapes over the balcony doors as the sun began to rise. Realization hit me over the head like Cait Sith thrown from his mog. He wasn't going to help Cloud find me. If he had reservations about helping, I couldn't be sure that Reno and Elena would go on helping either. I could very well have the Turks on my side.

I smiled for the first time since running out as the curtains shut out the dawn. I was cavorting with the Turks. My smile turned into a satisfied smirk as I closed my eyes and began to drift. If everything I'd had for the last year was going to end, I was going to make it such an end.


End file.
